A Promise
by Well I Don't Mind
Summary: Ophelia knows that Logan is her brother, but she can't help the strange, growing feelings towards him. And the way he's looking at her doesn't make things any easier... Set right before the beginning of the game. Warnings: Incest and sexual content. 2 pt
1. Part 1

**A/N: **Okay, so this is my first true M-rated fic.. and it has absolutely nothing to do with my other Fable III story. And I feel like I need to explain myself; this is so not my cup of tea. Incest is like.. well, it's as far away from my morals as possible, but I just can't resist the tention between Logan and the Princess! And, well, Logan is totally hot in his own weirdness, so.. well, enough said. I like reviews :)

**Summary: **Ophelia knows that Logan is her brother, but she can't help the strange, growing feelings towards him. And the way he's looking at her, doesn't make things any easier... set right before the beginning of the game.

**Warnings:** Incest and sex. Strong M-rating. **_Don't like it, don't read it_**. You have been warned.

Now, enjoy!

* * *

_**A Promise**_

**Part I**

"Ophelia," Jasper called as he entered her room.

"Yes, Jasper?" the young princess called back with a smile. Her cheeks were reddened after playing around with her dog, Rochester.

"King Logan enquires after you in his study," Jasper said and took a bow. "He seems to be in a rather bad mood today, so I suggest to not upset him."

Ophelia nodded, her smile fading. She knew her brother all too well to enjoy his company when he was in a bad mood. She brushed the dirt off her dress before she headed towards the war-room. She knew he wanted her to be clean and proper. He would most certainly disapprove of her wild hair and her reddened cheeks. She tried to straighten out her hair a bit before she knocked lightly on the door to her brother's study.

"_Enter_."

She took a deep breath before she opened the door and stepped inside the room. Her brother was sitting in an armchair by the fire, not even looking at her. She silently made her way to stand beside him. His hand reached for hers, and she took it. Her hand was so small and puny in his big, strong one.

"Your presence calms me," he said softly, his eyes on the flames.

"Why would you need calming," she asked.

He snapped his head towards her, and then he rose. "The villagers are all going mad. I can't control them any longer."

"Why do you need to control them then, Logan?" Ophelia asked.

Logan released her hand and laughed scornfully. He put his hands behind his back and turned to the windows. "Because I'm the King, my dear Ophelia." He looked at her over his shoulder. "If I can make the mountains bend to my will, I should be able to control my people." He turned to her and observed her thoroughly. She felt her cheeks redden a bit more when she felt her brother's intense glare studying her. "You look downright wild."

"I've been out in the gardens."

"Running in gardens is not appropriate for a princess, Ophelia," Logan growled. "Besides, you missed your lessons today."

Ophelia looked down at the floor. "Forgive me."

"Now, now," he said and took her chin in his hand and raised it to look into her eyes. "The Harvest Ball is in a week. I suppose you'd like a new frock?"

Ophelia swallowed. Did she dare to ask her brother for a real dress? She wasn't a child anymore, and a frock only looked ridiculous on her. "I don't want a frock, sir. I want a dress. A real woman's dress."

Logan narrowed his eyes and eyed her again. "It's not appropriate for a princess to flatter its female shapes. And especially not for a child."

It hurt her that he called her a child. She wasn't a child. "I'm seventeen, Logan. I'm hardly a child anymore."

He sighed. "Very well. I will order Ana to make you a green silk dress. It will match your eyes."

"Thank you," she said.

He let her go and walked to the map-table. "Who are escorting you?"

"Elliot," Ophelia answered.

He snorted. "Elliot? That dim-witted excuse of a Lord?"

"There's nothing wrong with Elliot, Logan!" Ophelia snapped. "He's a nice man, and I like him."

Logan turned his head to her. "Oh, I know." Then he advanced towards her with a furious expression. "Don't think I don't know about his little 'visits' in your bedchamber at night."

Ophelia gasped. "It—it's not like that! We have never—"

"Don't lie to me, Ophelia!" he growled as he grabbed her arm. "Your irresponsible behaviour will result in devastation."

"I have never bedded with him, if that's what you're indicating," she said through gritted teeth.

Logan clenched his jaw. "Good. And keep it that way." He grabbed her chin again and leaned closer. "Now, go and apologise to Master William. He's been asking for you the whole morning. You have got to take care of your studies."

"I will," she said, voice trembling. Her brother was awfully close.

"You're a good girl," he whispered and planted a fierce kiss on her soft lips. Then he let go of her completely and walked back to the map-table.

Ophelia stood frozen. They had kissed many times before, but then it had been innocent and loving. Now it had been… different. She didn't know what to make out of it. Her heart was beating fast. Panic rose in her chest as she took her first step towards the door. She felt so stiff, so unmovable. But her next step came automatically, and before she knew it, she was outside the war-room, running towards her own room. She still felt his eyes studying her so thoroughly, and it sent chills along her spine. Her own feelings towards him had been so strange lately, too. She couldn't describe them, but they were different. Then again, she barely remembered how she felt for him before, because she didn't know if she held any special feeling towards him then. They didn't have the same mother, and Logan's mother died in childbirth while having him. Ophelia's mother, however, died shortly after the King himself. Ophelia was so young when their father died – only three years old – and when Logan took the throne, as a confused and scared sixteen-year-old, he almost stopped being her big brother to be the King of Albion. She had grown up looking at him as the King, and not as her brother. But she had always loved his as one. But now… well, now she didn't know.

Her whole body was shaking when she reached her bedchamber. Her hand came to her lips, as if his kiss still lingered, and she closed her eyes. She tried to understand what it had been. Perhaps it had been just as innocent and normal as all the other kisses, and that she was the only one who thought it different. Perhaps the ferocity had appeared because of her brother's bad mood. Whatever the case was, her heart was racing. When a rapping on her door came, she jumped. "Yes?"

The door opened, and Jasper stepped inside with a bow. "My lady, Sir Walter is waiting for you in the gardens. You're five minutes late for your training."

Ophelia nodded. "I'll… I'll go to him right away. I just need to change my garments."

"Of course," Jasper said and bowed before he left.

Ophelia sighed as she walked to her closet. Her blue robe was too formal to train in. Actually, it was too formal to play around with altogether, but she hadn't bothered changing earlier. But she knew Walter would appreciate if she could move properly. Of course, Logan did not approve of that she was training for combat, whatsoever, and would be even more furious with her. But she could avoid him long enough to finish training for the day, take a bath and dress properly before dinner. He wasn't exactly someone she longed to see anymore, either. She changed to a more practical suit and plaited her dark ruby hair before she left the room and headed towards the gardens. Rochester joined her as she walked through the kitchen, and when they came outside, Walter was waiting by the lookout point. He stood with his broad smile, as usual, and with his hands on his hip.

"Have a lot on your mind today, princess?" he asked.

She nodded. "Indeed, I have."

"Very well," he said and handed a sword to her. "Can't let that interfere with your practice."

Ophelia grabbed the sword in her hand, and then they began sparring. She was quite good at it, actually. She didn't have the strength yet, though, but Walter promised her that it would come in time. But she was light on her feet, and did not get hit as often as when she first started training. Although, today she was out of focus. Her mind was elsewhere; in the war-room, replaying her meeting with Logan, over and over again.

Walter stopped to look at her. "What's the matter, Ruby?" He called her Ruby. "You seem distraught."

She sighed. "I'm fine. I just… I just need some rest."

"Well then, let's call it a day, shall we?"

Ophelia smiled. Walter was always so nice to her. He had been like her father when her own father died. She had just turned four. "Thank you Walter. You're so kind."

"No worries, Ruby," Walter smiled. "Go and get some rest. Ask Jasper to bring you something to eat, too. You look hungry."

Ophelia smiled before she returned the sword and walked back up the stairs. Rochester followed her faithfully. When she returned to her room, she called for Jasper to pour her a bath, and then she bathed for a long time. The water had cooled a long time ago when she finally decided to get up. Something was wrong within her. She was confused, sad, angry and somewhat, excited at the same time. And all because her so-called brother.

Time flew by, and June, her maid, had joined her to help her dress and style her hair. June knew all too well how Logan wanted his sister to look, and did everything perfectly. She had dressed Ophelia in an icy blue frock with white lace around the neck. She picked out her shiny, white shoes, and laid her hair beautifully with some of her long curls on the front bound to the back of her head, and one curl hung beautifully over her right eye. Even in a girl's frock, Ophelia looked like a woman.

"My Lord will be please, I can tell," June smiled.

Ophelia smiled weakly.

"But you'd better hurry now," June said. "You know how Logan dislikes waiting."

"I do," Ophelia whispered and looked down on the floor. "Thank you for the help, June."

"I'm just doing my duty, Miss," June smiled and curtsied.

Ophelia smiled to and waited for June to leave before she sank to the floor, gasping for air. She was panicking. How would she be able to meet Logan so shortly after they'd shared such a kiss? Perhaps she was the only one thinking about it like that, and then she would be even a bigger fool. But she simply couldn't stop. His touch, his scent, his lips… it was all spinning around in her head. If she could just forget about that stupid kiss, then everything could go back to normal. She was just overreacting. Yes, she was overreacting. She rose from the floor and straightened the fabric of her dress before she headed towards the dining hall. It was only Ophelia and her brother dining tonight. Normally, there would be foreign friends or visitors joining them, but not tonight. The last guest left two nights ago. As she entered the dining hall, she saw Logan sitting on his usual chair on the one end of the long table. Ophelia walked to sit next to him.

"You're late," he said.

"Forgive me," Ophelia whispered. The table was filled with food for at least ten people.

Logan helped himself with both food and wine, and then he looked at Ophelia. "Aren't you going to eat?"

Ophelia nodded and put a piece of chicken and some mashed potatoes on her plate.

"Is that all?"

"I'm not very hungry," she said. They ate in silence. The sparkling from the fire as well as her brother's chewing echoed in Ophelia's mind. She tried not to care. She tried not to think of her brother, whatsoever, but still couldn't help but to steal a glance at him not and again. The dark under his black eyes indicated stress and bad sleep. The scars on his face proved him brave. His posture proved him proud. When she came to think of it, her brother was rather dark and mysterious. She didn't know that much about his adventures, or about his thoughts. She didn't know how he got all those scars, for example. Whenever she'd asked him about it, he'd shaken his head and said "when you're older", but she'd never understood why he couldn't tell her. What was so horrible? Walter was training her to kill. What was more horrible than that? She pictured him on the battlefield. He would be strong and victorious. His tall and lean, yet muscular, body would be the perfect body for a good fighter; strong enough to strike hard and fatal and light enough to escape quickly. He was probably sought for by the ladies too. Her cheeks reddened as that thought came to her mind, and she looked down on her plate. Her food was cold.

"I have been thinking about what you said earlier," he suddenly said.

Ophelia held her breath.

"About you not being a child anymore," he continued and looked at her. "You're right. You've become a fine woman, Ophelia, and you shouldn't hide that. Of course you shouldn't. Tell me how you'd like your dress to look, and I'll order it for you. I still recommend green, though."

"You're kind, brother," Ophelia said silently. She did not dare to look at him.

"I saw Annabel the Trader's Daughter in the gardens today, selling gems," he said. "She was dressed in a most challenging dress, and she's even a year younger than you. And that made me think; you're the princess. Of course you should show your beauty."

Ophelia's heart beat faster.

"And we'll need measurements," he said.

Ophelia gasped. "Measurements?"

"For your new dress," he said. Then he rang the bell, and a servant came into the dining hall. "We've finished and would like our tea in my study."

"Yes, your Majesty," the servant said and bowed deeply before disappearing into the kitchen.

Logan rose. "Come. Let us do the measurements now, so that the dress can be started on by tomorrow."

Ophelia did as told, even though she wasn't sure she wanted to. She followed Logan into the war-room and stood by the door, waiting for his next command. Logan searched through his writing desk and some bookshelf before he uttered a "aha", and then he turned to Ophelia.

"Don't just stand there," he said. "Come here."

Ophelia swallowed as she walked up to her brother. He was at least a head taller than her.

"Turn," he ordered her, and she turned. The then placed a measuring tape around her waist.

She lifted her arms a bit to allow his arms work around her waist. She found it rather uncomfortable. Why didn't June do this? But she held her tongue. She felt how Logan measured her waist, her hips, her length and when he was about to measure her bosom, she held her breath and blood rushed to her cheeks. He seemed to notice her nervousness and placed a hand softly on her shoulder, one finger trailing from her ear down her throat.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "I won't hurt you."

Her heart was racing as she felt the King's hands search their way to the front of her chest, where they rested right on the upper curve of her breasts. Her chest was moving rapidly, but his hands were steady, pushing against her soft bosom as she breathed. He worked slowly as his hands caressed her chest and pulled the measuring tape around her. He had even taken a step closer to her, and she could feel his body against hers. Her head was spinning by both discomfort and excitement. Then she felt how the coldness spread across her back as Logan took a step back. His hands left her body, and he walked to put the measuring tape down.

"Well," he said, his back turned on her. "You're certainly not a child anymore, I dare say."

She did not dare to answer. She didn't even dare to turn.

"I expect you to look your absolute best at the Harvest Ball, Ophelia," Logan said with his kingly voice. "And I want Elliot to match your garment if he is to accompany you."

"Yes, sir," she whispered.

"And don't forget I have the right to the first dance."

"Of course not," Ophelia said.

"Now, got to bed," Logan said. "Tomorrow you'll model for your portrait and I do not want you to look drowsy."

"Yes sir," she said and hurried to the door. "Good night, Logan." Then she left. It was the second time this day she ran from the war-room to her own room, practically in panic. She slammed the door behind her and leaned towards it, panting. His touch had left a tingling feeling in her body she couldn't interpret. The blood returned to her face as she remembered Logan's touch, and a shiver shot through her body, strong enough to make her nipples harden. Never before had anyone awakened such feelings inside of her, and to be honest, she thought Elliot would be the first. She let her hands trail along her body, over her bosom, her stomach and down to the cleavage of her legs. But she quickly removed her hands, ashamed of what she wanted to do. A rapping on the door startled her, and she whimpered. June opened carefully and peered in.

"Is everything alright, Miss?" she asked.

"Yes," Ophelia answered, but she knew June would not believe her. But her maid smiled and nodded.

"Let's get you out of that dress and into your pyjamas."

Ophelia nodded and followed June into the dressing chamber. June helped her off with her frock, and on with the pyjamas. As she put Ophelia's hair down, June spoke about all the gossip she'd heard while in town. But Ophelia's mind was elsewhere. The tingling feeling was still in her body, and Logan's hands were still on her chest, massaging and caressing her breasts.

June said good night and left the royal bedchamber after making sure Ophelia's sheets were clean and neat. Ophelia sighed in relief and lay down under the covers. Once again, she let her hands travel across her body, and this time, she didn't stop herself. She tried to focus her thoughts on Elliot, how he was the one to touch her, but Logan kept appearing in her mind, being the only right one to touch her like that. Her hands slid into her trousers, and down to her womanhood. She was already moist. She let a finger circle around the bundle of nerves and down to her folds before she slid one finger inside, and pushed it in and out repeatedly. She moaned silently as she added another finger and speeded her movement, rising and lowering her hips as she did. She gasped as she felt her body tense, and then release. She didn't continue after that. Her cheeks were heat with blood, her body was shaking and only one thing escaped from her lips before she lay shifted in her bed to sleep; "Oh, Logan."


	2. Part 2

_**A Promise**_

**Part 2**

The following days were like torture to Ophelia. She had her portrait painted, which meant she had to sit still for hours while Logan himself was watching her, and she could not keep the blood away from her cheeks. He had dressed her in a tight, blue noble dress, a woman's dress, and she felt how his eyes more often fell to her cleavage than her face, or the painting itself. A smirk had even appeared on his lips from time to time, and had sent shivers along her spine.

The day after that, she had had her first dress-fitting, and Logan had to be there too, of course. He had to make sure the dress fitted as he wanted it to, and that it flattered her body as he wanted it to. The day after that, Ophelia met Elliot. They had arranged a meeting in Bowerstone Industrial, and Ophelia had to sneak out of the castle to meet him. Otherwise Logan would be furious with her. But she made her way to Bowerstone Industrial. They met at The Riveter's Rest, and Elliot had bought her a glass of wine. They embraced each other as they met, and Elliot lifter her slightly from the ground.

"I'm so glad to see you!" he said. "I have something for you."

"What?" Ophelia smiled. Oh, she had missed Elliot.

"Close your eyes," he said.

She did as told with a curious smile on her lips. Then she suddenly felt his lips on hers in a quick kiss. When she opened her eyes again, she couldn't do anything but to stare. Had he just kissed her, as if they were still children? He smiled widely as his cheeks were slightly pink. But she could not enjoy it as he obviously did. Not after what she had shared with Logan. Impossible. Elliot suddenly seemed so childish in her eyes. He was nothing against the King himself, and Ophelia was filled with disappointment. She thought Elliot was the one to save her from these forbidden thoughts she'd been having.

But Elliot didn't seem to notice her disappointment and took her hands in his. "I was hoping, if I may be so bold, to share something more… special with you, on the Harvest Ball."

Ophelia swallowed. And by "special" he meant…? What? "Elliot—" she started, but was interrupted by one of his fingers on her lip.

"Don't say anything," he begged. "Let's just… let's just enjoy the ball and see where it ends."

Ophelia nodded. Then she sighed. "I have to go back. If Logan—"

"I know, I know," Elliot sighed. "He'll ground you."

Ophelia managed a smile. "I'll see you in two days. You've gone to the robe fitting, right?"

"I have," he said.

"Good," Ophelia smiled. Then she kissed his cheek lightly. "I'll see you then." After that, she hurried out of the tavern and back towards the castle. The fewer noticing her, the better. Perhaps she could make it to the castle without anyone noticing her. Luckily, no one did. But during dinner the night after, Logan proved to have been one step ahead. He did not mention it, though, until they were sitting in his study again, enjoying an after dinner drink.

"You saw Elliot yesterday," he said as he drank lazily from his glass of whiskey.

"I did," she said lowly.

"And how was the boy?" he smirked.

"He was… fine."

Logan leaned forwards and covered her hand with his. "Remember that you're a woman now, Ophelia. You need a man. Not a boy."

Ophelia looked into her brother's eyes. There was something there she hadn't seen before; a burning desire, or a nagging boredom. Whatever it was, it made her blush violently, and she quickly looked away.

He chuckled and squeezed her hand. "See? A boy won't make you a woman." He drew circlets on the back of her hand with fingers and wore a lazy smirk as he eyed her. "Only a man can make you blush that violently."

Ophelia gasped. She twisted her hand out of his grip and took the napkin and padded her mouth. "Forgive me, but I'm not feeling very well." Then she rose and headed towards the door.

"Oh, come on!" Logan laughed after her. "I was just teasing you! Stay."

She did not turn nor stop.

"Stay," he repeated, this time as a command. And she halted. She had to. He was the King. His words were law. "Come back here."

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her rising panic as she turned towards him again. But breathing was difficult. Logan had requested that she would wear the blue dress she wore on the portrait, and since it was so tight, it was hard for her to breathe in it.

Logan rose and walked towards his desk. "I have something for you, Ophelia."

The memory of Elliot telling her the same thing, just a day before, and then giving her a kiss, raised strange hope inside of her, and fear at the same time. But she walked up to him, as the loyal subject she was. He turned to her and held a rather flat wooden box in his hand. He opened it, and the most beautiful diamond necklace was lying inside of it. "Oh, Logan!" she gasped.

He smirked. "I knew you'd like it. I thought you could wear it on the ball."

She smiled and turned to let him place it around her neck. A mirror was in front of her, and she observed the necklace, as well as Logan, as he put it around her neck. It was heavy, but wonderful. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to have his mouth next to her ear.

"You look beautiful, my dear," he murmured. "You look like a Queen."

She brought her hand to the clear diamonds and caressed them softly. She had never received such a wonderful gift. Then she suddenly felt his lips on her throat, and she gasped. But she did not move. The tingling feeling was spreading like a disease in her body, and she even tilted her head a bit to allow him more skin. As his mouth went from the neck to the hollow of the shoulder, Ophelia could feel the King's hands once again travel to her chest. Her heart raced. He caressed the curve of the cleavage and explored the softness of her breasts and then they travelled further down, over her stomach and finally came to a rest on the v of her womanhood. The many layers of fabric made it impossible for him to get closer without pulling up the skirt, but to Ophelia, the bare thought of his hands where they were was enough to make her moan. Her knees shook violently of both panic and pleasure and Logan drove his hand as far as the fabric allowed him between her legs and massaged her passionately. She felt his body pressed against hers, and his arousal that pressed against the curve of her back. She breathed heavily and placed her hands on his arms, moving her hips towards his working hand, and back against his body.

"You like this, don't you?" Logan whispered in her ear.

"Yes," Ophelia breathed, not even close to finishing, but was well on her way.

"And would _Elliot_ be able to do this to you?"

"No!" she whimpered.

Then he suddenly turned her forcefully and held her by her upper arms and stared coldly into her eyes. "Then don't let him touch you like that."

Ophelia's eyes widened. She was aware of the deep redness on her cheeks and the burning desire she had for him, but all she could feel at this very moment was confusion. "No, sir!"

He loosened his grip a bit, and brought one hand to cup her face. "Good girl." Then he kissed her again. This time, it wasn't as fierce as the last time, but it was deep, and demanding. Her knees weakened. He forced her mouth open so that he could slide his tongue inside of it, and she did not pull away. She didn't want to. She pressed against him. She welcomed him. She reached up to put her arms around his neck, but just as she was to touch him, he pulled away.

"Go to bed," he ordered. "You have a big day tomorrow."

Ophelia only stared at him. "But—"

"No buts," he said and walked to sit down in the armchair again.

"But what about you?" she whispered. "Didn't you…?"

He laughed darkly. "Don't mind me. Go to bed."

Without further questions, she made her way out of his study and back towards her room. The castle was silent this time of night, with only the maids doing the last of the cleaning until the morning. She walked slowly, not knowing what to do, really. She was filled with shame for what had just happened, as well as desire. But most of all, she was afraid. Afraid that it all might be a test; she knew her brother, and he was cunning. Perhaps this was a test to see whether or not she could draw a line. She was also afraid this might be real, and that Logan really did want her, and that he might do something to her, something she wasn't ready for. When she reached her room she sat down by the window to wait for June. She took off the necklace and placed it on a buffet. She couldn't remove the dress and corset by herself. But in truth, she didn't want company. She wanted to be by herself, so she could truly reflect upon what had happened tonight, and what she had felt the past week. But June came, as usual, and helped her. She talked about gossip, as usual, and brought a message from Elliot.

"Master Elliot said he wanted you to read this letter and said that a reply wasn't necessary," June said and handed the envelope to Ophelia. "I'll leave you to it. Good night, my lady."

"Good night, June," Ophelia said and sat down in her bed. When June had left the room she opened the letter.

'_Dearest Ophelia,_

_I apologise for my impulsive behaviour yesterday. It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable, if that is what I did. I certainly did not mean to push you into anything. I do have an actual gift for you which I will give you tomorrow evening, and do not fret, it is not a kiss. _

_Yours truly,_

_Elliot.'_

Ophelia sighed deeply. Logan had been right; Elliot was just a boy. She placed the letter on her nightstand, blew out the candle and lay down comfortably under the covers. Her heart was still beating fast. It took her hours until she finally could fall asleep, and when she did, even her sleep was restless. She dreamt of Logan, of his hands on her, of him forcing her to bed with him. And when she woke up the morning after, she was breathing heavily, on the verge of crying. She was afraid of what the night might bring. Jasper suddenly came to her side, carrying a bowl of fresh water, with Rochester at his side.

"Good morning, your Highness. Here you are," he said and placed the bowl on the nightstand. "You've slept in, I dare say. Miss June has been on me the whole morning, asking when you'd wake up! You obviously have a lot ahead of you today."

Ophelia sighed. She knew exactly how long the preparations took for a ball, and now, when she was to be dressed as a grown woman, it was much more that needed to be done. She had to bathe, wash her hair with herbs and flowers, scrub her body, put on herbal oil on her body, wait until her hair dried, powder her body, dress – which could take up to an hour –, lay her hair, apply paint on her face and be approved by the King, her brother. That was the part she dreaded the most. The green silk dress had arrived this morning, and it was beautiful, but daring. The cleavage was deep, and it was so tight around her waist and chest, she could barely breathe in it.

"I will go and tell June you're up," Jasper said.

Ophelia nodded. As Jasper left the room, she threw herself on the bed again, sighing deeply. She did not want to attend the ball tonight. Not at all. But June came almost immediately after Jasper had left, and did not take things slow.

"Oh, Miss, you need to take off your clothes at once!" she said. "I believe the water is the bath is comfortably warm now. I took the liberty to fill it with hot water while you were asleep, Miss. But now we really need to hurry! Oh, your dress is beautiful! You brother has been real generous when he ordered this for you, I can tell. Did you know the silk is from Samarkand?"

Ophelia took her off her pyjamas while June kept talking. The bathwater was perfect, and Ophelia wanted to stay there forever. However, June did not let her rest for one second. Her body was to be scrubbed and washed, and her hair had to be rubbed with herbs and rose-petals. Then she was to be washed again, and then she had to get up and rub the herbal oil on her body. The oil was from Aurora; a birthday gift for Ophelia on her seventeenth birthday. After that, she'd have to get dry. She sat by the window in a silk robe, looking out on the swaying leaves. Her hair was soon all dry. The ruby locks hung freely over her shoulders, just the way she liked it. She detested fancy hairdressings, heavy tiaras and big hats. If she could choose, she would leave the castle and live the life of an adventurer, just like her father had. But she couldn't choose. She was the princess, and Logan would never let her go. She knew that.

"Miss, we'd better continue," June said and put a hand on Ophelia's shoulder.

The princess nodded. June powdered her body, and after that she helped her get dressed. The undergarments came on, and after that, the corset. It was a new one, a stronger and smaller one. June almost couldn't close it properly, and had to pull the strings every time Ophelia exhaled. When it was properly tied, it was time to put on the dress. Ophelia felt indescribably beautiful in her new dress, even though she couldn't breathe properly. Just as June was about to start with her hair, she stopped.

"You should go the way you look, right now," she said.

Ophelia chuckled. "Like this? With no paint in my face nor a hairdressing? Logan would be furious."

"Oh, let him be, then!" June said. "You look like and angel."

"I thank you," Ophelia smiled. Then she shook her head. "No. No, I can't shame him like that."

June shrugged. "I don't think you'd shame him. I think he'd be proud of having such a beautiful sister."

"Dress my hair, June," Ophelia sighed. "I'm the Princess of Albion, not a Lady of the Woods."

"But you wish you were," June smiled and started dress her hair.

She did a beautiful hairdressing, and kept it fairly natural. She painted Ophelia's lips crimson and put a thin layer of green around her eyes. Finally, the diamond necklace came on.

"Oh, how I wish I could have gone to that ball," June sighed when she was done.

"You can go instead of me," Ophelia muttered.

"Don't be like that!" June said. "You're going with Elliot, remember."

Ophelia sighed. "Yeah. Well, I'd better go to Logan now."

"Yes, you'd better," June said. "Now, promise me you'll enjoy yourself!"

"I will," Ophelia promised, even though she didn't know whether or not she could keep it. As she made her way towards the war-room, she could see how the servants had prepared the castle for the ball. It had taken over four hours for Ophelia to be done, and the guests had already started to arrive. She reached her brother's study and rapped on the door.

"_Enter._"

She stepped inside, feeling how her cheeks reddened.

"Ah, Ophelia!" he greeted her. Then a smile spread across his lips as he eyed her. "You look beautiful. Like a real woman."

"So you approve?" she asked, rather coldly.

"I do."

Ophelia nodded and curtsied. "Then I'll make my leave."

"I believe Elliot is waiting at the entrance."

Ophelia didn't reply and left the room. Her breath had increased. She just knew his eyes had lingered a long second or two on her cleavage, as his smirk had grown wider. She tried to push those thoughts away as she made her way towards the entrance, and just as Logan had said, Elliot waited there for her, dressed in a green suit.

"You look absolutely gorgeous!" he smiled.

Ophelia smiled back as she took his hands in hers. "I'm so glad you came."

"You did get my message, didn't you?"

"I did."

Elliot smiled even bigger. "Good."

Together they walked to the big dining hall. When all the guests had arrived, the dinner was served. Logan held a speech, and then everybody started to eat. Even though the guests were all noblemen and women, they ate like pigs. Ophelia felt disgusted. When the guests were done eating, they all moved into the ballroom. A group of chamber musicians were playing as the guests started to dance. As promised, and entitled, Logan danced the first dance with Ophelia. Even though she knew he wouldn't do anything to her in this large crowd of people, she still thought he held her unnecessarily close during the dance. However, it ended quickly, and then she danced the rest of the dances with Elliot, Walter and the General of the Elite Royal Guard. She had a good time, she couldn't deny that. Elliot was very polite and gentlemanlike, and Logan kept away except for some occasional chat or if he was to present the princess to a meaningful person.

As the night went further, Elliot had asked Ophelia to come with him to the gardens. She followed.

"What's your gift?" Ophelia asked with a smile.

Elliot smiled back and took her hands in his. "Ophelia," he said and pulled her close. "I don't really know how to say this, but… I love you."

Ophelia sighed deeply. "Elliot, I—"

"Marry me."

She gasped. "What?"

"I know it's a bit impulsive, but we live only once, right?"

"But Elliot? I—"

"Don't say anything!" Elliot said. "I know King Logan will never allow us to marry, but let's run away! Just you and I! Let's run from Bowerstone, and explore the world!"

"Elliot, I can't…"

"Nonsense!" he chuckled. "Let's just go! Let's discover the world! You've always wanted to go somewhere, right? Well, here's your chance! Let's go to Brightwall! Or discover the ancient and haunted marshes of Wraithmarsh! Visit Bloodstone!"

Ophelia sighed deeply. "Elliot." But he kept talking. "Elliot!" He fell silent and looked at her. "You know I want to see the world. But… well, I can't leave."

"Why?"

"Well…" She fumbled in the dark for words. "I—I can't leave Logan."

Elliot snorted. "That tyrant? He's ruining you, Ophelia! And you know it too!"

"He is not," she muttered.

"He is!" Elliot sounded almost frustrated. "Why can't you see it? He's manipulating you! You can't do _anything_ without his consent! Bloody Skorm, you can't even go to the _market _without being approved by him!"

"I am the princess, Elliot!" Ophelia barked. "I have to act, look and think a certain way! That's who I am!"

"No, it's _not_!" he barked back, but quickly realised who he was talking to. But his anger was far from gone, and his cheeks had taken a shade of red. "That is not who you are, Ophelia. You're not his puppet!" But she had stopped listening and walked away from him, away from the gardens, away from the castle. "You're not his _puppet_! Ophelia! _Ophelia_?"

Tears burned in her eyes as she stormed towards the only place where she could be alone; in a remote place in the woods on the way to the docks, where a nice, even river was flowing down towards the sea. She wanted to get away from them all; from Elliot, from Logan, from Walter, from Jasper… from June. Everyone. The tears had started to fall, and she didn't stop walking until she came to her own, secret place. It was a passage of stones across the river, and she sat down on the middle one. The corset was uncomfortable, and the paint was stinging in her eyes. Her lips felt so stiff from the crimson paint, and her hair felt so heavy and unnatural. She let her hair down and brought some water in her hands to wash away the paint in her face. Elliot had been right; she was tired of being the princess. She was tired of being so controlled. She did want to run, but for some strange reason, the last week had created a new, strong bond between her and Logan, even though she knew it was insane to feel that way. She knew she shouldn't let him do what he did to her, but she couldn't help it. Her brother made her feel something she'd never felt before. Besides, he was only her half-brother… no, no, she couldn't think of him that way. She was sure he only did it all out of scorn, but she couldn't help the thrilling and arousing feeling she got whenever he looked at her, even though she feared what he could do to her. But there was something else, too… Elliot had proposed. He wanted to marry her. Had he asked her two weeks ago, she wouldn't hesitate whatsoever, but now… well, she wasn't so sure about her feelings towards him anymore. Surely, he could not touch her like Logan had. Oh, dear Avo, what would her father think of her if he saw her now?

She must have been sitting by those rocks for hours. She started to head back when she felt too cold to stay out. The corset was hurting her ribs, and she felt the exhaustion from the lack of breath. The guests were long gone when she returned to the castle. Even the staff had gone to bed. Ophelia sighed as she walked towards June's bedroom. She had to help her undress. The corset was far too tight for her do untie it herself.

"Ophelia." She gasped loudly when she heard her brother call for her.

"You startled me," she breathed.

Logan stood by the door to his study, only dressed in his white shirt and his black trousers and boots. "Where have you been?"

Ophelia swallowed and looked down on her feet. "Out."

"Where?"

"By the river."

Logan sighed. "Come with me." He walked into his room, and Ophelia followed, not sure of what awaited her. "The general asked for you the whole night."

"I'm sorry," she said.

He eyed her with a troubled expression. "You've been crying."

Ophelia didn't answer.

He took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes. "This is how you should look; so natural and vulnerable."

Ophelia looked down.

"Come with me," he whispered, and Ophelia looked up.

"Where?" Ophelia breathed.

Logan did not answer her, but planted a kiss on her lips, soft and lingering. He pulled her close, and Ophelia did not fight him. She couldn't deny her feelings any longer, and she couldn't deny him. She could never deny him anything; he was the King. When their lips parted, Logan took her hand and pulled her with him into his library, and finally into his bedroom. Ophelia's heart was racing. She knew what awaited her, and she didn't know how she felt about it. But that didn't matter. He kissed her again, and she placed her arms around his neck. But she felt how her head was spinning a bit too much, and she had to gasp for air.

"What's the matter?" Logan asked.

"I—can't… I can't—breathe!" Ophelia managed to say and had to fold and support herself on the foot of the bed. She felt how Logan tore the expensive fabric of her dress apart, and hurried to unlace her corset. She took a deep breath when she felt her how her chest was released. Logan leaned over her, his hands also supporting against the foot of the bed. She felt how he removed her hair from her neck, and how he pressed his lips against her skin, and kissed her all the way down to her shoulder blades. She moaned softly as his teeth nibbled her skin lightly. She felt his arousal press against her bottom, and she turned her head so that their lips could meet. He slid his tongue into her mouth, and explored every inch of it. Then he turned her around and pulled her dress and bodice down, revealing her bare breasts. He kissed them softly, nibbling her nipples lightly, and she threw her head back and gasped. His lips returned to hers, and he lifter her up and laid her down on the bed. He took his shirt of, and Ophelia let her hands run over his chest and stomach, feeling every muscle and every scar. Logan pulled her dress off completely and caressed her bare stomach.

"Ophelia," he breathed, his voice trembling. "Ophelia, let me have you."

"Yes…" Ophelia whispered. "Yes."

He kissed her again, as his hand slowly made its way to her womanhood. She gasped and blushed violently as she felt his hand rub her passionately. She moaned and closed her eyes. She had never even imagined it would feel that good. She felt how he thrust a finger into her, and moved it in and out, faster and faster, joined by another one.

"Oh, Logan!" she breathed, and he covered her mouth with his. She reached to unbutton his trousers, and he wasn't late to help.

When his trousers and boots had joined the rest of the clothes on the floor he carefully parted her legs.

"Will it hurt?" she whispered.

"Only a little," he assured her and buried his face between her neck and shoulder and thrust into her.

She whimpered when he penetrated her and bit her lip. But as he thrust again and again, the sensation of pleasure washed over her, and she quickly found her rhythm, and joined in with him, moving her hips with his. He moaned silently against her neck, and breathed heavily. So did she. Their lips found each other again, and Ophelia put her arms around his neck. She knew it was horribly wrong, but she couldn't stop what was happening. They speeded up, pushing the boundaries of the taboo they were performing. Their moans grew louder, as them both reached their climax, and she felt him emptying inside of her. They kissed again, and he rolled off her and put his arms around her. They were both sweaty and breathing heavily. But they only lay like that for ten minutes, or so, before Logan rose from the bed and walked up to a buffet.

"You need to take toxin," he said lowly.

"Why?" Ophelia asked horrified.

"So you won't be with child," he said and returned to the bed with a glass of scotch. "It won't taste good. But it's for the best."

Ophelia swallowed. She looked at the glass, and then at Logan. His eyes were blank. No emotions. She sighed and took the glass and drank it. It tasted horrible, but as Logan had said; it was for the best.

Logan joined her in the bed again and kissed her neck.

Ophelia put the empty glass on the nightstand and sighed. "This can never happen again, Logan."

"This will happen again," he whispered in her ear. "And again. And again." He kissed her neck, and caressed her body, and then he took her again. She didn't fight it. The toxin made her woozy, and easy to handle. Perhaps that had been Logan's real motive. But she hadn't been uneasy to handle the first time, either.

When they both had finished a second time, he rolled off her again, and cradled her in his arms.

"How did we get here?" Ophelia whispered. "Were siblings, for Avo's sake!"

"Half-siblings," Logan corrected her. Then he sighed. "I don't know. You've never been a sister to me, Ophelia."

Those words stung, more than they should at that very moment. She should be glad, because those words could make it all much simpler, but they hurt. "You've never loved me?"

"I've always loved you." He kissed her neck and sighed. "You've been my only love." He pulled her closer and tightened his grip around her. "Don't you ever leave me, Ophelia."

"I won't," she promised.

"I'm losing the grip of my people," he muttered. "There will be a revolution. I just know it. The uprising has begun." Then he sighed. "Promise me one thing, Ophelia; never stand against me."

"I promise," she whispered and turned to him. "I promise."


	3. A Word from the Author

**A Word from the Author**

******-:(O):-**

Hello, my dear readers. I hope you are all fine this lovely December evening (it's evening here!). Personally, where I am, there's a storm raging over the city this very evening, and I'm waiting for a lovely, home-made vegetarian pizza that is being made in the kitchen at this very moment.

But, the reason I am writing to you all is not because I wanted to tell you all what I am having for dinner, no… why I'm addressing you this lovely December evening, is the fact that I wanted to tell you all that this story, _**A Promise**_, has just now, received a sequel!

It is called _**Broken Promises**_, and can be found on my page, of course. However, this publish is more of an experiment for me, and I cannot promise to update that very often, due to so many other project that's hanging around. I can't seem to focus on one thing at a time, and this is then the consequence. Oh well.

Anyway, since this story received a lot more attention than I expected it to (I honestly didn't think anyone would either review, alert or put as favourite...) I decided to make this little announcement here, in case you would be interested in continuing reading about Princess Ophelia and her tyrannical brother/lover/King.

So, to sum up; it's evening where I am right now, stormy weather, I'm having pizza for dinner, and chapter one of the sequel, _**Broken Promises**_, is up now!

Love,  
~Well I Don't Mind.

**-:(O):-**


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